<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Penfriends by A_fighter_like_Eowyn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862757">Penfriends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_fighter_like_Eowyn/pseuds/A_fighter_like_Eowyn'>A_fighter_like_Eowyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure &amp; Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Comfort/Angst, Declarations Of Love, Developing Friendships, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Drama &amp; Romance, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Epic Friendship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, French Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gentle Kissing, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Geraskier Exchange (The Witcher), Geraskier Ship Week (The Witcher), Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kissing, Letters, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Love at First Sight, M/M, Male Friendship, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Slow Romance, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:13:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_fighter_like_Eowyn/pseuds/A_fighter_like_Eowyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier falls in love with his penfriend, G, whose name, home address and personal details he has no idea about. When Jaskier's mother tries to force him to enter an arranged marriage with Valdo Marx, Jaskier writes a desperate letter to G, confessing his romantic feelings towards the man and asking if G returns his affections. And G does not answer. Angst ensues...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>292</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Penfriends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Let me get this straight", Mrs. Pankratz yells, her eyes burning in fury, "You are spurning the advances of Valdo, who is clearly <em>besotted</em> with you, and whom your own family fully approves of, and you are running off to find your penfriend? A man you have never set eyes on, never even spoken to on the telephone - a man whose intentions you cannot be certain of? And for what? So you can offer up your bleeding heart to him, and confess how much you love him and dream of a life with him? And then demand him to reciprocate, and take you as his lawfully wedded husband? Hmm?"</p><p>Thrown in his face like that, the words sound harsh, cruel, jarring, and unfortunately rather pragmatically spoken. Jaskier flinches, but stands his ground, glowering right back at his infuriated mother.</p><p>"I <em>will not</em> enter a loveless marriage. I do not return Valdo's affections, and frankly speaking, I think he is a snobbish prig whose massive ego you never fail to inflate further every time he sets foot in this house, Ma!", his voice rises with every word, "Why do you think he will make an <em>ideal</em> husband for me? Have you ever even bothered to ask me what I want in a partner? What I love? What I like? What I need?"</p><p>Mr. Pankratz is seated behind his son, conveniently concealed from his wife's furious glares, and subtly nods his head in support - he has always been the closer of the two parents to Jaskier, understanding and appreciating his son's rather wildly imaginative personality (if a little naïve and given to fantasizing and daydreaming) - and he too has never taken a liking to the flamboyant, insouciant, glib-tongued Valdo with his pompous demeanour and his greedy eyes lecherously devouring Jaskier (or for that matter, any handsome young man around him).</p><p>Mrs. Pankratz sputters in rage. "You think I do not care about your happiness? You think that running away from us and what we think is best for you, to pour your heart out at the feet of a complete stranger, is the solution? You think this ... this "G" ... he is going to love you back and marry you? Simple as that?", she pants, and Jaskier feels a pang of guilt for his earlier outburst.</p><p>"Ma, please ... I am not saying that G will necessarily acquiesce to my offer. And yes, you are right in that I have no idea if he loves me back. If he will ever love me back. But please ... I have to try. I have to give this a shot. Or I shall forever regret it. Forever wonder what could have happened if I had but asked."</p><p>
  <em>He does not tell her that he already has. And no answer has come.</em>
</p><p>**************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Jaskier sits quietly beside the huge glass-paned window of the café, idly stirring his steaming, fragrant milk-tea with a loosely held spoon. He looks out the window at the mist-wreathed purple-and-blue mountains and the sombre evergreen coniferous forests that mantle the rolling foothills in a lush, darkly verdant blanket. He absolutely loves the Himalayas - his forever home - and his eyes never tire of feasting on the serene, solemn, sometimes brooding beauty of the world's highest and most imposing mountain range.</p><p>He arrived in Darjeeling yesterday, flying in from Shimla, his hometown. He deliberately chose a prim little guest-house far from the bustling bazaar area of this Himalayan tourist hotspot. Waking up early, he spent much of the morning ambling around listlessly, feeling morose and despondent, before stumbling across this gem of a café tucked away on the edge of shady woodlands near the periphery of the city.</p><p>This little café reminds him of the one that G loves to frequent. The one that G has effusively bragged about in many of his letters. He has never disclosed its name nor its location, but he has raved about how much he loves curling up in a plush armchair in a corner of its parlour with a book in one hand and a mug of piping hot Darjeeling tea mixed with a generous dollop of honey in the other. Sometimes he even brings his research materials with him - publications he is working on, journals and books he needs to refer to - and spends nearly the entire day in that café, immersed in his studies.</p><p>Jaskier's communications with G began more than two years back. Jaskier had just moved back to Shimla after finishing university in Mumbai, and he had been feeling a little lonely and restive at the time, and that was when Mr. Pankratz had given him the idea of seeking a penfriend. </p><p>He is still not very sure what it was that had prompted him to choose G as his preferred potential correspondent out of the list of hopefuls the penfriend-finding company had sent him on the mail. Something about the rather simple, humble and unassuming description had tugged at his heart, warming his insides inexplicably.</p><p>
  <em>Hi! I am looking for a pen-pal. I hail from the Eastern Himalayas. I am very fond of plants and animals, and love taking care of our forests and wildlife. I enjoy trekking and mountaineering, occasionally rock-climbing. I love reading travelogues and tales of adventures and expeditions. I have a dog with a strange name, and she is very loyal and loving. If we ever get to meet, I would like nothing better than to show you around my town and my workplace, nestled in the arms of the beautiful, unsurpassed Himalayas.
-- G</em>
</p><p>A week after Jaskier had intimated his preference to the company, an agent from the company gave him a brief phone call to let him know that G had accepted. Jaskier felt oddly happy and buoyant that day, and sat down to scribble his first ever letter to his first ever penfriend that very evening, sending it off the day after addressed to a PO box in Darjeeling.</p><p>Barely two days later, he received his first ever letter from his first ever penfriend. It was clear that Jaskier and G had both penned their first letters to each other at around the same time, neither waiting for the other to initiate the correspondence - a realization that warmed Jaskier's heart even more. Jaskier read and re-read the letter, delighting in how sweetly (if a tad shyly and hesitantly) G had introduced himself, had made sure to ask after Jaskier's parents and family, and had asked whether he shared with G a similar sense of belonging and being loved when it came to living in the mountains. </p><p>It was agreed in that very first exchange that the pen-pals were not to reveal their identities, nor would they inquire after each other's full names and personal details, unless there arose a truly pressing, compelling need for it. Indeed, they decided not to share anything truly distinctive about themselves that could aid in one of them identifying or recognizing the other without an iota of doubt. G kept calling himself G and Jaskier adhered to the rule of calling himself J.</p><p>*********************************************************************************************************</p><p>As Jaskier stares out the window, his unseeing eyes trained on the mountains outside, he reminisces about all the things they have shared so far in their correspondences. They have confided to each other so many secrets, so many thoughts, so many feelings, so many snippets and incidents and memories - big and small, significant and trifling - that they have never shared with anyone else!</p><p> G revealed in his second letter that he is a wildlife biologist and conservation scientist, actively working to preserve the innumerable endangered species of flora and fauna in the Eastern Himalayas. Jaskier informed G that he is a lecturer at a college in Shimla, and volunteers as an amateur librarian serving the quaint little library in their neighbourhood.</p><p>G never failed to express his enthusiasm about wildlife, and Jaskier marveled at the man's ardent passion for helping innocent, defenseless animals. Jaskier confessed to G that he is a sucker for fantasy novels, and has an entire bookcase worth of epic fantasies. G wrote back sounding thoroughly impressed with Jaskier's collection, then added his own list, taking care to tell Jaskier that he loves wolves and wolfdogs, huskies and malamutes, and never tires of revisiting his childhood favourites such as White Fang and The Call of The Wild. He admitted to Jaskier how, even as an adult, he becomes engrossed in The Jungle Book, Black Beauty, The Animals of Farthing Wood and Watership Down. Jaskier and G discovered their shared admiration for detective stories, and the two would frequently banter back and forth as to whether Hercule Poirot is a superior detective and crime-solver to Sherlock Holmes. </p><p>Jaskier talked about his love for orchids and wildflowers, and G seemed absolutely elated upon learning this. Many of his letters afterwards arrived enclosed with photos of various Himalayan wildflowers that G had captured using his polaroid camera - from purple-petaled monkshoods to brilliant blue Himalayan anemones and Himalayan blue poppies, from pheasant's eyes to yellow Himalayan oxeye daisies.</p><p>G wrote about his tremendous fascination with Himalayan birds and butterflies, and Jaskier sent him two very detailed modern field-guides on G's birthday (and then hungrily memorized the gushing words of gratitude that G poured forth in the letter that followed). On Jaskier's birthday, G sent him a compilation of the works of Ruskin Bond, along with a remarkable acrylic painting of an iridescent Himalayan monal that G had made with his own hands, making Jaskier's heart beat with a fondness that was no longer just the platonic kind between two good friends.</p><p>G confessed to having an insatiable sweet tooth, and Jaskier revealed to him his penchant for baking cakes and cookies and fashioning a variety of mithais or Indian confections out of milk, khoya, lentils, jaggery and coconuts. G managed to coax out of a needlessly mortified Jaskier that he loves writing sonnets and ballads and epic poems, and from that day onward, never stopped insisting that Jaskier share every single one of his literary creations with G. Jaskier in turn demanded that he be allowed to see photographs of the charcoal sketches and occasional acrylic artworks that G was too shy to share with anyone else in the world, and G obliged (quite happily, Jaskier surmised).</p><p>They spent so many evenings giggling uncontrollably as they read each other's letters confessing which movie stars they had secret crushes on, how many times they had sneaked out of classes back in college to go watch movies in theatres with equally mischievous friends, how often they had stolen out of their homes during adolescent years to explore the woods and then had been hauled back by the ear by livid parents, which subjects and which teachers used to terrify them the most in high school - countless memories of hilariously embarrassing incidents and innocent pranks played on friends and family, of wistfully remembered childhood and young-adult years, of dreams realized and dreams lost to the depths of time.</p><p>The letters that used to begin with <em>"Hi G"</em> or <em>"Hello J"</em> gradually gave way to letters that were addressed as <em>"My beloved G"</em> or <em>"My dearest J"</em>, and where once they used to end in a polite and simple <em>"Best, J"</em> or <em>"Cheers, G"</em>, they now ended with an earnest<br/>
<em>"Sending you a Himalayan-brown-bear-hug, and please do write back soon, dearest.<br/>
-- Yours forever,<br/>
   J"</em><br/>
or an equally ardent<br/>
<em>"Please know that I truly cannot wait to hear back from you.<br/>
-- My love and hugs are all yours, always,<br/>
   G"</em>.</p><p>There came a time when Jaskier would fidget in impatience until he heard the mailman's bicycle on the gravelly path leading to their villa, and if G's letters were anything to go by, he was not faring much better. Jaskier had long since been aware of the tiny but steadily growing bud in his heart - a bud that ensconced within its cocoon of tender petals a deep, unwavering, fierce and resolute romantic love for the man who had once been nothing more than his only penfriend. And he knew that sooner or later, it would burst forth in all its glory, and flood him with a love unbridled and unstoppable.</p><p>It all began spiraling towards an inexorable climax as pressure mounted on Jaskier to yield to his Ma's wishes and say yes to an arranged marriage to Valdo. He has always disliked Valdo with vehemence, finding the man's exaggeratedly debonair ways affected and his attitude pretentious and offputtingly imperious. He tried to reason with Mrs. Pankratz, but all his imploring fell on deaf ears. And then, he snapped.</p><p>Desperate, he penned a letter to G, confessing his romantic feelings for the man without fuss and without beating around the bush, and summarized to him the relentless insistence, verbal onslaughts and emotional blackmails that Jaskier was facing from his own mother and Valdo's parents to bend to their will.</p><p>Jaskier openly asked G if by any chance he returned Jaskier's feelings - if he might be interested in formally courting Jaskier. He laid himself bare in that letter, holding back nothing of the deep and unshakeable love and tenderness he felt for G, rendering himself completely and irrevocably vulnerable.</p><p>
  <em>All because he trusted G. Trusted him with his life, his heart, his everything.</em>
</p><p>****************************************************************************************************</p><p>The bell that hangs above the café door clinks merrily, announcing the arrival of a new customer and stirring Jaskier out of his reminiscence. He brings a shaky hand up to his cheeks, and his fingers come off wet. He has been crying. </p><p>
  <em>That letter - that fateful letter that contained his admissions of endless love and adoration for his penfriend, and his piteous pleas to have his affections returned - reached its destination three months back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Three long months.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And no reply has come. Not a single letter from G. Not another word. Not even a short note to indicate that G has perhaps been too busy to write.</em>
</p><p>Jaskier waited. The first few days since sending off that letter, he felt incredibly tensed and anxious. His nerves were frayed and his whole body tautened with a nauseating concoction of anticipation and apprehension, hope and trepidation. He waited, and waited, and waited, and the longer he waited the more his hopes dwindled, to be replaced by a gut-wrenching feeling of dread and dejection. </p><p>
  <em>Something was wrong. Something was horribly, irreparably wrong. Because G would never ever be this tardy in writing back.</em>
</p><p>Jaskier would have made the trip to Darjeeling much earlier. But his teaching responsibilities during the ongoing semester prevented him from doing so. Once the summer vacation set in, though, Jaskier knew that he was at the end of his tether.</p><p>He did one last thing before setting out for Darjeeling. And that was to send a last letter to G. </p><p>This one contained a black and white passport photograph of Jaskier. And a very short letter.</p><p>
  <em>"G,<br/>
Just so you know - this is the face behind all those letters. The face of the man who has fallen so hopelessly for you.<br/>
-- Yours, and no one else's in this lifetime,<br/>
   J."</em>
</p><p>
  Sure, it's possible that G has never ever loved Jaskier. That Jaskier's feelings towards him are not and will never be reciprocated. But this is <strong>no</strong> way to end their friendship. Jaskier has always thought so, so highly of G. He cannot believe that G would sever all ties with Jaskier this cruelly, with such ruthless and heartbreaking finality.
</p><p>
  <em>And Jaskier is so mad! He is so, so hurt! </em><br/>
<em> Oh how he has cried himself to sleep every single night for the past two and a half months! </em><br/>
<em> How his heart has ached for his beloved friend! How his mind has been numbed by the pain of such abject, heartless rejection! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He needs to know. He needs to speak to G. </em><br/>
<em>He needs to meet G in the flesh and look him in the eye, and ask him why he has been this cruel, this brutally unfeeling towards Jaskier, despite seeming to shower him with "love and hugs" in all those letters he sent.</em>
</p><p>But to execute this plan, Jaskier needs to <em>find</em> the man in the first place. </p><p>The post office to which Jaskier used to send his letters has proven rather uncooperative thanks to clauses of client confidentiality. The only option for Jaskier, therefore, is to somehow inquire after a wildlife and conservation biologist who works in the forests in this region and whose name begins with a "G" (although, to be honest, Jaskier has no idea if "G" is really one of his penfriend's initials). He has had a brief conversation with the owner of the café right after his arrival, but the old Maharashtrian man has not been able to help. He knows many rangers and forest officers and scientists who are part of the forest inspection and preservation teams, and many, many of them possess names beginning with a "G" (from Govind to Ganesh to Gopi), and in the end, Jaskier has sighed and thanked the man, picking up the proffered mug of tea and moving towards an empty seat by the window.</p><p>"Geralt Sahib!", the café owner booms to the new customer, and Jaskier is temporarily distracted by the man whom he sees striding up to the counter, "What a pleasant surprise! Where have you been all this time? Last I saw you was weeks ago!"</p><p>The man, clearly a regular at this café, boasts a strikingly handsome appearance. Long, flowing, milk-white tresses cascade down the sides of his face, framing it beautifully, while those on the back of his head are held together by a simple black hair-tie in an elegant ponytail. The luxurious, gossamer tresses shimmer like spun silver in the pale sunlight. Jaskier notices even from that distance the contours of that extremely attractive face - a noble forehead, a proud nose, a chiseled jawline, and firm, determined lips. And even from that distance, he notices the rather startling gleam of the man's irises as they catch the sunbeams, though he can't quite tell what colour they are yet.</p><p>The man named Geralt offers the shopkeeper a small smile, then a rumbling, pleasantly deep baritone voice speaks, offering a short but polite "I was a bit ... busy, Amar-ji."</p><p>"Oh, by the way, something just occurred to me", chirps the excited Amar-ji, "That gentleman in the corner? He was asking after a wildlife biologist working in these parts, whose name begins with a "G". Just like yours, ha ha! Maybe you could help him, Geralt Sahib?"</p><p>And that makes the newcomer turn in the direction of Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier can't quite make out the emotions that flit through that alluringly handsome face in quick succession, but somehow he is convinced that the man looks shocked and unsettled, even ... <em>pained</em>? ... tinged with something akin to ... <em>guilt and cautious hope</em>?</p><p>No way! Jaskier is just imagining things, as usual. Just as he naively imagines wonderful things about everyone he meets, before he even gets to know them properly. He just assumes they are lovely human beings, and trusts them, and then gets hurt.</p><p>
  <em>Just as he has naively led himself to imagine all kinds of amazing things about G - G is kind, G is compassionate, G cares for him, G truly means it when he says Jaskier is his dearest friend, or that Jaskier can lay claim to all his love and all his hugs - and then G ... and then G ...</em>
</p><p>Jaskier forces himself to swallow past the lump that tries to push up his throat, then stands as he sees the man named Geralt make his way towards him.</p><p>"Hi!", says the deep, rumbling voice, gruff yet somehow managing to send a weird tingling down Jaskier's spine, which he pointedly ignores.</p><p>Now that he is this close, Jaskier notices with astonishment that the man's eyes are a deep shade of amber flecked with gold.</p><p>"Hello! Sorry for this ... rather awkward inconvenience. I ... I have a friend living in these parts. I ... haven't heard from him in a while, and I'm ... I'm a bit worried. So I came to look for him. He is a conservation scientist. His name ...", Jaskier winces, because he knows how weird it must seem if he honestly admits that he <em>thinks</em> that his friend's name begins with a "G".</p><p>The man in front of him waits patiently, and Jaskier feels warmth pool in his stomach as his eyes pin him to the spot with such tremendous, searing intensity. He cannot help but stutter a bit as he notices how those amber-gold orbs brim with emotions too varied and complex for Jaskier to single out and fathom, and how they seem determined to commit to memory every single line, every single plane and angle and contour of Jaskier's face - as if he might disappear into thin air if they so much as blink.</p><p>"H-his name begins with a "G"", Jaskier pauses again, certain that he is about to be inundated by a deluge of questions, "I ... I don't know his full name. He is my penfriend. My ... my best friend."</p><p>The man still does not speak. His expression remains carefully impassive - somehow, a small, irrational part of Jaskier is convinced that this unruffled, calm exterior is merely a pretense - but his eyes begin to burn even more fiercely.</p><p>"He did not ... he has not written in <em>three months</em>, and I ... I miss him", Jaskier finishes, feeling wretched and miserable, and a part of him wonders why he is bothering to confide all this to the complete stranger in front of him.</p><p>"Hmm", comes the reply, "Anything else you know of this man?"</p><p>"Nothing outwardly that could help identify him. Except ... except he has a dog. An Alsatian. He told me she has a strange name that begins with an "R"."</p><p>The man's eyes dip down for the first time since they began devouring Jaskier's face. He stays silent for a few seconds, then asks, his voice hesitant, "You want my help in locating this man?"</p><p>"Yes!", Jaskier's voice comes out uncharacteristically shrill, "Will you? Please? I need to see him."</p><p>The man nods once, then beckons to Jaskier to follow him as he walks towards the exit, "Amar-ji, I'll come back tomorrow." The old man smiles and waves with a cheerful, "Ji Sahib."</p><p>******************************************************************************************************</p><p>Their boots scrunch on the gravel as they trudge up a path that leads deeper into the forest, and long minutes pass by without either of them speaking a word. The man named Geralt, Jaskier figures, is a surprisingly reticent individual, and while Jaskier is reputed for being a ceaseless chatterbox under normal circumstances, he is in no mood to make much conversation at the moment.</p><p>"This friend ...", the man abruptly breaks the silence, "Why do you wish to see him?"</p><p>Jaskier throws Geralt a perplexed look. "I told you - he is my best friend, and he has not written to me in a very long time. And that's very unusual of him."</p><p>"Maybe he is just busy", Geralt says dismissively, and Jaskier glowers.</p><p>"Yes, maybe. But he could have at least sent me a short note, to let me know."</p><p>"Doesn't seem like a very nice friend, does he?"</p><p>Jaskier stops short, then rounds on this infuriating stranger. "He is the nicest, kindest, most amazing human being I have ever known", he bites out, cornflower-blue eyes flashing dangerously.</p><p>"Except that you don't know him at all. You don't know his name, or even his dog's", Geralt scoffs, "You don't know what he looks like, what he sounds like. You don't know anything remotely useful that could help you narrow down this search."</p><p>"That was <em>part of the deal!</em> We <em>deliberately</em> decided to not share our identities! Where is the fun in that?", Jaskier does not mean to yell, but it is hard to keep himself calm, "Anyway, I don't expect <em>others</em> to understand."</p><p>He looks away with his arms crossed on his chest, furiously blinking back the hot tears that threaten to spill over. He can feel Geralt's eyes on him before the man sighs and resumes his trek.</p><p>Just when the silence between them begins to become too stifling, Geralt stops, then points to a strange-looking flower whose upper petals are a brilliant, sparkling white and the single lower petal a purplish-magenta shade.</p><p>"Phalaenopsis parishii."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Orchid."</p><p>Jaskier moves closer, and silently admires the pristine flower drenched in dew-drops. He briefly wonders if Geralt is trying to placate him after hurling harsh words at him, but he dismisses the idea - there is no hint of a conciliatory tone in the man's voice, and Jaskier feels relatively certain Geralt is the kind of human being who is never afraid of being brutally honest, and who never seeks to pacify anyone just because they are affronted by his candor.</p><p>"And those", Geralt points towards a plant bearing butterfly-like flowers that are a very becoming shade of delicate pink, "Are Phalaenopsis pulcherrima."</p><p>Jaskier stares at the man, eyes wide with amazement. "You ... you are so knowledgeable!"</p><p>"No. Just trying to learn a few basic things about orchids in this region. My ... friend likes orchids."</p><p>"Ah!"</p><p>They resume their walk. A short while later, Geralt pauses and draws Jaskier's attention to a plant with several pendent clusters of deep yellow blossoms, "Dendrobium chrysotoxum." </p><p>A half hour later, he comes to a halt close to a hurrying mountain spring, its crystal-clear waters leaping and frolicking as it gushes down, hitting Jaskier's feet in a cold spray. Geralt stoops down, his eyes intent upon a plant with smooth-edged leaves that are a very dark, velvety green, with parallel white stripes. Jaskier follows his example, to take a closer look.</p><p>"Ludisia discolor, commonly known as the crown jewel orchid", says Geralt, and Jaskier is mesmerized by the minuscule glittering white blossoms with the yellow centres and the pale-orange stalks that adorn the plant.</p><p>Eventually, after a long uphill hike, Jaskier tires out, and Geralt suggests that they rest a bit. They perch themselves on a couple of huge moss-covered rocks that lie on the slippery clay banks of yet another swiftly flowing stream, and Jaskier leans against the massive bole of a mighty oak tree and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply in the mingled aromas of the forest.</p><p>"Do you truly believe he is good?"</p><p>Jaskier shakes himself out of the light doze that has started to fog his wearied mind, "What?"</p><p>"Do you truly, sincerely believe that he is the nicest person you have ever known?"</p><p>"Yes", comes the simple, confident answer.</p><p>"Why? How? What if he is not what you think? What if he is a monster, who has realized that you deserve far, far better than him?"</p><p>Jaskier turns to face his companion, brow furrowed, "What on earth are you talking about? Why would he presume something so ridiculous?"</p><p>"Because people are damaged. People are broken. And they often do not reveal to even their closest friends and family the darkness that resides within them."</p><p>"Everyone's broken. Everyone's damaged. Everyone has scars. Everyone has suffered, has gotten hurt, has made mistakes and has blundered and hurt others at some point of time in their lives. Everyone is imperfect, and has regrets, and has hearts that are a patchwork of healing cracks and open wounds. So? Is everyone a monster?"</p><p>Geralt rises to his feet with an annoyed huff, scowling, and stomps away a few paces, and Jaskier watches him, completely nonplussed. But the man does not go very far - he stands there with his back turned to Jaskier and breathes in and out as if to calm himself, then turning, stalks back towards Jaskier. </p><p>"How do you know he is not worse than the average? That he is not a depraved, perfidious jerk who found a loyal friend in you and made the most of it, but then realized that his cruel, loveless, hollow soul has nothing to offer you - no way to return your affections - and therefore fled, leaving you in the dust?"</p><p>Jaskier stares up at the amber eyes that now resemble molten pools of magma - ablaze with something that seems disquietingly like anguish rather than vexation - and wonders what has come over Geralt. Or whether Jaskier has fallen in with a raving madman.</p><p>"I <strong>know</strong> G is not like that", he says quietly, but assertively.</p><p>"How? HOW?"</p><p>"I JUST DO, OKAY? HE IS MY BEST FRIEND! I HAVE KNOWN HIM FOR TWO WHOLE YEARS! HE CARES FOR ME. AND I KNOW IT."</p><p>"TWO YEARS?", Geralt scoffs in disdain, "A LIFETIME IS NOT ENOUGH TO KNOW ANOTHER HUMAN BEING. HOW DO YOU KNOW HE HAS NEVER LIED TO YOU?"</p><p>"HE DID NOT!", Jaskier realizes that he has begun crying in earnest, no longer able to hold back the tears and the sobs that have been trying to push up his chest for a long time, "NO ONE CAN PRETEND THAT WELL! NOT FOR THAT LONG! WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT ANYWAY, HMM? WHAT WOULD HE GAIN FROM LEADING ME ON? IF HE SAYS HE LOVES ME, I BELIEVE HIM."</p><p>"YOU FOOL! DON'T YOU REALIZE THAT HE IS NOT WORTHY OF YOUR LOVE? HE HAS ABANDONED YOU, AND YOU STILL PINE FOR HIM!"</p><p>"YES! YES I DO! I LOVE HIM! <strong>I LOVE HIM!</strong> HE HAS TAKEN MY HEART FROM ME ... WHAT CAN I DO?" </p><p>And Jaskier collapses back onto his rocky seat, his chest heaving with strangled sobs and tears streaming unchecked down his face, and he is no longer able to reign in his emotions - no longer able to pretend that he is okay. For three whole months he has waited with his heart in his hand, calling out to G with his entire being, yearning for him, aching to hear from him, writhing in agony, unable to find solace anywhere. And G has ignored him, ignored his love and his plight, given him the cold shoulder, rejected his affections so cruelly and with such ringing finality, and never even condescended to write one last letter to end their friendship and part ways on more amicable terms.</p><p>"He has my heart ... my poor heart! How can I move on? How, tell me? I am his ... but he does not care. He ... he ... I thought ... but no, no he does not ... he hates me - I know now ... he must feel so disgusted by my advances ... he must resent me so, so much, for being such a lovesick fool ... he hates me ... he hates me ..."</p><p>And as sobs wrack through Jaskier's svelte frame, his face contorted in anguish and his body going limp from pain and despair as the overwhelming weight of his own words settle on his shoulders, he careens forward, and his boots slip in the wet mud, and he loses his balance on the rock and his body skids down the slippery banks of the stream ...</p><p>"J! J! NO!"</p><p>Lightning-fast, he is caught in the steadying embrace of brawny arms, and hauled back up to firm ground. He is made to sit on the leaf-strewn forest floor a good distance away from the stream, and made to lean back against the reassuringly solid trunk of a tree. His breathing comes heavy, and his eyes are tightly closed, and a slight tremor shakes his frame. His sobs have not fully subsided yet, but his mind is a little less dazed than before, and he is trying very hard to decide if the words he heard mere seconds ago were the result of some momentary hallucination of his distressed mind.</p><p>Large, roughly calloused hands hold on to his shoulders, rub up and down his arms, anchoring him. Gentle fingers smooth away stray strands of hair from his forehead, softly caress his head, and he leans into that loving touch, basks in its warmth.</p><p>"J?"</p><p>Slowly, very slowly - almost cautiously - Jaskier opens his eyes. He can't help the way his lips wobble, can't help the way his face crumples in pain, can't help the way his eyes fill with tears as he looks up at the man kneeling in front of him.</p><p>Geralt.</p><p>G.</p><p>
  <em>G.</em>
</p><p>Jaskier has lost his voice. He can't bring himself to speak. He can only stare up at Geralt, his chest tightening with unspoken pain and bitter resentment as he recalls how he has been made to feel these past three months by the very man who claimed Jaskier to be his most beloved, most precious friend and so eloquently expressed his fondness and affections towards him in his innumerable letters. By the very man Jaskier offered up his heart to, and was rewarded with total, deafening silence. By the very man who is currently kneeling before him, looking utterly wretched and vulnerable, reeking of pain and guilt and self-loathing and wistful longing, eyes welling with tears.</p><p>"I am so sorry, J. So, so sorry. Please forgive me ... please! But please do not say that I hate you! <em>Hate</em> you, J? <em>You?</em> There's no one besides my family that I love and treasure and cherish more than you, J! But that does not mean that I believe I'm ... that I am good enough for you. I don't deserve someone as amazing as you are, J, my love ..."</p><p>"G!"</p><p>"No, J, listen ... you don't know how damaged I am! How awful the first eleven years of my childhood were - because I've never ever told you <em>anything</em> about my life before I was rescued and adopted by my Baba - and how they continue to haunt me. You don't know how most people deem me boorish, brooding, menacing, unworthy of befriending, and how they avoid my company like the plague. What you saw back in the café - the way Amar-ji treated me - it's more of an exception than a rule. Other than my closest colleagues and a handful of locals, everybody else gives me a wide berth, and rightfully so ..."</p><p>Jaskier's palm presses lightly upon Geralt's lips, stalling the flow of self-deprecating words. Geralt gasps at the touch, and involuntarily grazes his lips on the soft skin of Jaskier's palm, reveling in how the soft folds of flesh tingle his lips and how the scorching touch of his lips makes Jaskier shiver ever so slightly.</p><p>"It hurts, you know, G?", Jaskier speaks, voice quiet yet holding nothing but utmost sincerity, "When you denigrate yourself like that. When you belittle who you are, how absolutely delightful and kind and sweet and loving you are. Because you are my best friend, G, and when you talk like that, you vilify my best friend, and you hurt me."</p><p>Geralt makes a choking noise, and breaks down, sobbing in earnest, and Jaskier scoots forward and scoops him up in a hug.</p><p>"G! G! Sweetheart, please ... I understand that you are probably terrified, and you probably actually believe all the horrid things you told me about yourself just now - and it breaks my heart that my beautiful, darling, precious G believes himself a monster - but don't you see that this accomplishes no good? No good at all? All it does is hurt and dishonour the people who love you."</p><p>Geralt burrows deeper into Jaskier's chest, and cries harder. </p><p>"You hurt and dishonour your Baba, you hurt and dishonour your two doting brothers, and you hurt me. Because we all love you for who you are. And who you are is an amazing, amazing human being, G. I love you, G - I love you so, so much! I love you with all my heart!"</p><p>"I love you!", comes the muffled answer in a voice thick with tears, and Jaskier's heart skips a beat. And as his hands pry his sobbing G off his chest and cups that dear, tear-streaked face, Geralt looks up at him through his long, wet lashes, and speaks again, louder and clearer and firmer this time, "I love you, J. I have for a very long time. I fell for you mere months into our penfriendship, and have never managed to climb out since. Only fallen deeper and harder, and the more I fell, the more I feared you would reject me the moment you found out how unwanted, unloved and unwelcomed I am by most human beings around me. Or else you <em>wouldn't</em> reject me, and that would be even worse, because I would only end up making you miserable, and you of all people deserve to be happy. And I don't deser--"</p><p>"G, can you please let <em>me</em> be the judge of whether you deserve to be my husband? Whether you deserve to own my heart? And you know what will truly make me miserable, you giant oaf? It is this self-loathing that you are wallowing in! If you keep deeming yourself unworthy of me, you will keep distancing yourself, keep causing me pain, keep sabotaging our happiness together. Do you not see it, G?"</p><p>Jaskier's voice has risen again, despite his best efforts, but he is more than a bit mad at the persistent manner in which Geralt keeps asserting that he does not deserve Jaskier, and that he has nothing good to offer him. He knows enough about human relationships to know that such a self-disparaging, self-demeaning outlook, if allowed to continue, can very well cause a loving romantic relationship to fester and fall apart. And his heart constricts in pain even thinking of such a possibility between himself and his G.</p><p>He explains as much to Geralt, and hopes Geralt will understand. Geralt sits there, his eyes downcast and his head bowed, and he listens to it all. And all the while, he holds Jaskier's hands reverently in his own, his calloused palms pressed flush against Jaskier's far softer ones, his thumbs caressing Jaskier's knuckles. Jaskier nearly closes his eyes, wanting to give in to the feeling of his G touching him so sweetly, so intimately and yet so innocently, but he forces himself to keep a firm, determined countenance and makes sure Geralt hears every syllable leaving his mouth.</p><p>"Do you see what I am trying to say, G? You need not be loved by all the people around you - indeed, you need not be loved by <em>most</em> people around you. You just need a few people to see you and value you for who you are, and stand by you, support you and be loyal to you through thick and thin. You don't need a hundred different people to appreciate your personality - which is absolutely lovely, let me remind you for the umpteenth time - and you don't need a hundred people to throw you polite, vapid smiles and ask you "How's it going?" without ever meaning to really listen to your answer, or make small talk with you. You need just a handful of people who love you enough to stand up to you and argue with you and try to make you see reason when you are about to do something rash and stupid, who love you enough to always be honest and candid with you, to hold you and comfort you and let you know they have your back, no matter what, when the going gets tough. And think about it, G - you already have such people in your lives. Don't you?"</p><p>Geralt nods silently, then pulls Jaskier closer to himself, cocooning him in his burly arms, and Jaskier melts into the embrace, his head resting on Geralt's sculpted, muscular chest.</p><p>"And you don't need a hundred different people to fall for you, G. You just need one. And you have that, too."</p><p>"May I say something?"</p><p>"Anything, sweetheart."</p><p>"I think my Baba will be absolutely delighted to meet you. I think he will discover a mini himself in you."</p><p>Jaskier lifts his head to look at Geralt, and finds him smirking through his tears, and it coaxes a fond chuckle out of Jaskier as well. "Why do you say that?"</p><p>"Because you talk <em>exactly</em> like him. He told me these <em>exact</em> same things when he was scolding the living daylights out of me for not having replied to you for three whole months."</p><p>Jaskier's eyes go comically round. "He scolded you?"</p><p>"Like you wouldn't believe. My Baba, Vesemir, and my two brothers - by the way, their full names are Eskel and Lambert, so you won't have to keep calling them E and L - have known of my feelings for you for a rather long time. And they have always urged me to take the first step and speak up - confess to you and ask you if you would let me court you. Well, the chicken that I am, I never could summon the courage to tell you anything. But then they found out about your last two letters, and all hell broke loose. Eskel found out about your second-last letter just about two months after you sent it, and immediately ratted me out to Baba. And Baba came within an inch of purchasing a couple of airplane tickets and dragging me to Shimla that very day, so I may apologize to you and beg you to accept me as your betrothed."</p><p>Jaskier begins to laugh, and Geralt joins in. "Oh why ... why did that not <em>actually</em> happen? Just imagine the scene ... Vesemir Chacha appearing on my doorstep, dragging you by the ear behind him like a naughty little kid caught with his hand in the cookie-jar ..."</p><p>"You're enjoying this way too much, aren't you?"</p><p>"Oh my, yes!"</p><p>"He threatened me he would actually do it - drag me by the ear to Shimla and then throw me at your feet, that is - if I did not fly to Shimla myself the first chance I got, and make things right with you, and then bring his son-in-law home to him."</p><p>Jaskier blushes crimson, and hides his face in the folds of Geralt's shirt, and Geralt's heart soars at that. "So why did you not come?", comes the shy question.</p><p>"I truly <em>was</em> busy, J, and the MoEFCC department wouldn't let me go on a leave. But I would have come to Shimla. Would have sought you out. Not willingly, because I would have been torn between thinking I am not deserving enough and fearing that you moved on and entered the arranged marriage your Ma wants you to. But Baba and my brothers would have made me."</p><p>"And all this time, you could not have written a single letter to me, G?", Jaskier asks quietly, but immediately regrets it as fresh tears well up in Geralt's eyes. He clutches Geralt's shoulders and pulls him closer, shushing him.</p><p>"When I take you home tonight, I shall show you all the letters I wrote to you, and never mailed. Never. All the letters. There are probably fifteen of them, at the very least. All of them telling you how much I love you, how much I want you, how much I need you. And all of them warning you that you mustn't be mine. That you deserve better than a monster like Geralt."</p><p>And that, more than anything else, cracks Jaskier's heart in two.</p><p>****************************************************************************************************</p><p>The two penfriends-turned-lovers sit quietly in each other's arms, safe and warm and loved in each other's embrace, for another hour. They don't talk much, occasionally asking and answering questions in soft, hushed voices, sniffling a bit as fresh torrents of sobs threaten to overcome them, comforting and shushing each other, soothing and caressing each other.</p><p>"So what does the "R" stand for?"</p><p>"Oh ha ha! It's Roach. She is a three-year old Alsatian. I think you two will <em>love</em> each other - she is very feisty and very vocal, just like you, J."</p><p>When it's time to get up and head home, Geralt suddenly spots the vibrant pink blossoms a little distance away, their odd shapes reminiscent of policemen's helmets.</p><p>"See those?"</p><p>"Yeah! They are Himalayan balsams, no? You sent me a photo ..."</p><p>"Indeed. They are known by a myriad other names, such as the ornamental jewelweed. <em>And</em>", Geralt pauses for dramatic effect, looking deep into Jaskier's upturned, cornflower-blue eyes, "They are also, quite aptly, called "kiss-me-on-the-mountain". Did you know?"</p><p>Jaskier's eyes widen, and he stares helplessly up at Geralt with his mouth slightly ajar and his breaths coming rapid.</p><p>And Geralt thinks that he has never seen a creature more exquisite, more adorable, more irresistibly alluring than Jaskier, his face turned up towards Geralt and his pomegranate-pink lips - so gorgeously plump and kissable - just slightly parted, his doe-like eyes drowning in Geralt's amber-gold ones, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird in his rib-cage and his chest heaving against Geralt's own as his breaths grow quick and shallow in anticipation. </p><p>And then, Jaskier licks his lips, his little pink tongue darting out, and that is the last straw.</p><p>Geralt surges forward and catches Jaskier's lips in his own, stealing Jaskier's breath in that fell swoop. His J moans loudly and unhesitatingly into his mouth, and Geralt nips at his bottom lip and Jaskier obediently opens his mouth for Geralt to explore and ravage ...</p><p>And Geralt knows that this is it - there is no turning back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All the flowers, plants, birds, books, places named here are very real. If you want to see more about them, here are some links :-)<br/>1) Phalaenopsis parishii -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Phalaenopsis_parishii_Orchi_433.jpg<br/>2) Phalaenopsis pulcherrima -- https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Phalaenopsis_pulcherrima#/media/File:Doritis_pulcherrima_2zz.jpg<br/>3) Dendrobium chrysotoxum -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dendrobium_chrysotoxum#/media/File:Dendrobium_chrysotoxum2.jpg<br/>4) Ludisia discolor -- https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Ludisia_discolor#/media/File:Ludisia_discolor_1.jpg<br/>5) Himalayan balsam -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impatiens_glandulifera<br/>6) Himalayan monal -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Himalayan_monal#/media/File:Himalayan_Monal_Adult_Male_East_Sikkim_Sikkim_India.png<br/>7) About author Ruskin Bond's lifelong love for the Himalayas -- https://www.the-criterion.com/an-enduring-bond-the-mighty-himalayas-in-ruskin-bonds-writings/</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>